


Hung with Care

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, No that's not a sex thing, OR IS IT, groundhog day style, maybe it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: I'm so sorry for the title.  It's about a stocking, I swear.Narrator:the author is not sorry.  And it's not just about a stocking.The prompt:  David tucks a little something naughty in Patrick’s stocking, unaware that the Brewers will be joining them for Christmas morning. Secondhand embarrassment ensues. Could be panties. A sex toy. Artisinal lube. Sex coupons. The choice is yours!
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 40
Kudos: 155
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	1. Disaster Averted

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



It’s getting late. “It’s a Wonderful Life” has ended, everyone’s taster’s glass has been drained of cognac, and the fatigue of the long day is settling in. Patrick yawns, reaching his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. David takes his cue. “Time for bed, honey?”

Patrick nods, and stands, extending his hand to David. 

“Wait!”

Marci claps her hands on her thighs and stands. 

“Time for stockings!”

David looks to Patrick, who shrugs, before sitting back down, thigh to thigh with his husband. “Brewer family tradition.” 

Four stockings are arranged on the coffee table. One for Marci and Clint, from David and Patrick. One _for_ David and Patrick, from Marci and Clint. And one from David to Patrick and vice-versa. 

Even though it’s late, they joyfully pull out the contents of each stocking, delighting in the simplicity of perfect gifts that fit within. The socks are empty, or so it seems, when Patrick tips his stocking upside down, one last item falling to the floor. 

A seemingly innocuous piece of hardware falls to the floor with a loud THUD. 

Marci picks it up. “What’s this?” she asks, turning it over in her hand.

Years of improv and debate club have prepared Patrick for this moment. “It’s a mounting bracket for a porch swing,” he responds without missing a beat. 

He leans over and pecks David on the check. “Thanks, honey.”

David hums contentedly with the soft press of his husband’s lips, knowing that in that split second Patrick fully calculated the cost of the necessity of following through with the installation of a porch swing and weighed it against the truth - that the bracket was for a swing of a different sort. In the bedroom. 


	2. Slight embarrassment

It’s getting late. “It’s a Wonderful Life” has ended, everyone’s taster’s glass has been drained of cognac, and the fatigue of the long day is settling in. Patrick yawns, reaching his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. David takes his cue. “Time for bed, honey?”

Patrick nods, and stands, extending his hand to David. 

“Wait!”

Marci claps her hands on her thighs and stands. 

“Time for stockings!”

David looks to Patrick, who shrugs, before sitting back down, thigh to thigh with his husband. “Brewer family tradition.” 

Four stockings are arranged on the coffee table. One for Marci and Clint, from David and Patrick. One _for_ David and Patrick, from Marci and Clint. And one from David to Patrick and vice-versa. 

Even though it’s late, they joyfully pull out the contents of each stocking, delighting in the simplicity of perfect gifts that fit within. The socks are empty, or so it seems, when Patrick tips his stocking upside down, one last item falling to the floor. 

The business card floats to the carpeted floor like a leaf on a windy day in the fall, landing at Marci’s slippered feet. Face up.

“What’s this?” she asks curiously, picking it up and reading the calligraphic print out loud.

“This coupon entitles Patrick Brewer to one (1)  _ sexy _ massage.” She raises an eyebrow at David, who shrugs.

“Retail is very stressful at Christmas time, Marci, and you know how bad your son is at taking care of himself.”

Marci nods knowingly, her lips twitching, holding back laughter. 

Patrick chokes on his eggnog, his face flush, and his shoulders hiked with tension. “Mom!”

Marci places the card back in the stocking, and looks back to David, who is trying desperately to school his own expression. “Hmmph. I think it’s gonna take more than one, David, don’t you?”


	3. Embarrassment

It’s getting late. “It’s a Wonderful Life” has ended, everyone’s taster’s glass has been drained of cognac, and the fatigue of the long day is settling in. Patrick yawns, reaching his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. David takes his cue. “Time for bed, honey?”

Patrick nods, and stands, extending his hand to David. 

“Wait!”

Marci claps her hands on her thighs and stands. 

“Time for stockings!”

David looks to Patrick, who shrugs, before sitting back down, thigh to thigh with his husband. “Brewer family tradition.” 

Four stockings are arranged on the coffee table. One for Marci and Clint, from David and Patrick. One _for_ David and Patrick, from Marci and Clint. And one from David to Patrick and vice-versa. 

Even though it’s late, they joyfully pull out the contents of each stocking, delighting in the simplicity of perfect gifts that fit within. The socks are empty, or so it seems, when Patrick tips his stocking upside down, one last item falling to the floor. 

The first bead lands with a  _ thud!  _ on the hardwood floor. It’s followed closely by the remaining  _ sixteen _ beads in increasing size, the whole string coiling at Marci’s slippered feet. The final bead is at least the size of a baseball, and if Patrick wasn’t so embarrassed, he’d be flush with anticipation of having David work the string inside him as soon as possible. 

“Oh!” Marci exclaims. “Um - “ She mimes like she’s about to pick the beads up, but it’s obvious she’s moving glacially slow in the hopes of rescue. 

David plucks the toy off the floor and stuffs it back in the stocking. “Well, um, I think that’s everything?” He extends a hand to his husband. “See you in the morning?”

Marci and Clint nod. 

Patrick stands, holding his husband’s hand, and they turn to head towards the stairs. 

A forced cough causes them to turn. Marci is holding Patrick’s stocking in her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want...this?” Her lips are twisted in a smirk, and god, David loves her for it, but Patrick is already tugging David’s hand forcefully towards the stairs.

“Oh my god, mom!” Patrick exclaims, horrified, dropping David’s hand and taking the steps two at a time. 

David tiptoes back into the living room, accepts the stocking, pecks Marci on the cheek - “good for you,” she whispers with a wink - and follows his husband. 


	4. Mortification

It’s getting late. “It’s a Wonderful Life” has ended, everyone’s taster’s glass has been drained of cognac, and the fatigue of the long day is settling in. Patrick yawns, reaching his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. David takes his cue. “Time for bed, honey?”

Patrick nods, and stands, extending his hand to David. 

“Wait!”

Marci claps her hands on her thighs and stands. 

“Time for stockings!”

David looks to Patrick, who shrugs, before sitting back down, thigh to thigh with his husband. “Brewer family tradition.” 

Four stockings are arranged on the coffee table. One for Marci and Clint, from David and Patrick. One _for_ David and Patrick, from Marci and Clint. And one from David to Patrick and vice-versa. 

Even though it’s late, they joyfully pull out the contents of each stocking, delighting in the simplicity of perfect gifts that fit within. The socks are empty, or so it seems, when Patrick tips his stocking upside down, one last item falling to the floor. 

Everything appears to move in slow motion as the small bottle bounces twice on the low-pile rug and rolls to a stop at Marci’s slippered feet. 

Patrick appears frozen, and David is too far away to snag it before Marci’s tender motherly grasp plucks it from the floor. 

“What’s this?” she asks quizzically, palming the bottle over to read the label.

“ _Lickit-dee-Slit_ Gingerbread flavoured Anal Lubri - “

In a flash, Patrick snatches the bottle from his mother’s hand and stuffs it back in the stocking. 

“Oh my god!” David exclaims, covering his mouth with his hands, mortified, but also maybe just a little stifling a laugh. 

Every visible inch of Patrick’s skin is flushed a deep red. “Um - “

Marci’s eyes twinkle. Clint can’t suppress the smirk. But they both politely back away from the conversation and bid David and Patrick good night. 

And if it isn’t coincidence that Marci Brewer bakes gingerbread cookies the next afternoon, no one says a word. 


End file.
